


Thinking back

by Abbytheegg



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, I'm Sorry, Suicide Attempt, it's just heart wrenchingly sad, make the ncg depressed you cowards, so all of it is garbage and probably won't make sense unless you follow me, this is just sad, this was for my rp blog, yeah that's the path this goes down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbytheegg/pseuds/Abbytheegg
Summary: A really sad thing about my version of the ncg. And its just sad. Either just accept that you will be a mite confused or read my blog, because context is needed.





	Thinking back

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is sucks forever. Please don't read this if you have problems with suicide or depression or intrusive thoughts bc all of that is in this. Just read my blog for context idk what else to tell you. www.nxcecream.tumblr.com

Nickie set a casserole in the over for dinner and set a timer for thirty minutes. Technically, it should be in there for thirty five minutes but it was always better to air on the side of caution. He’d be absolutely crushed if he ruined dinner, especially since he was trying out a new recipe. He grabbed plates and silverware and moved to set the table, just so he wouldn’t have to do it later. He finished up dinner prep and allowed himself a moment to breathe. He really didn’t need to rush so much with dinner, but he always felt bad if his siblings ended up having to wait too long for dinner.

He leaned back against the counter and eyed the casserole in the oven cautiously. Maybe thirty minutes would be too long. Human recipes always converted badly to monster ones. He considered switching the timer and resolved to just pay attention to it. But as always, whenever he wanted to focus, it never did go well and he found himself drifting off in his thoughts.

* * *

“ Nicola, hon? What are doing still up? ”

He glanced up from his seat at the table to see his mother standing in the kitchen opening, dressed in a purple nightgown. She looked concerned, but lately, she always wore that expression when she looked at him. He must have been causing her so much grief these past months. She didn’t deserve that.

“ I couldn’t sleep. I was gonna make some warm milk to see if that would help, but I got lazy and sat here. ”

 **LIES**.

She smiled softly and made her way across the kitchen and carefully pulled a mug out of one of the cupboards. The farthest right one. It was such an odd thing to think about but that’s where the mugs always were and he couldn’t imagine them being anywhere else. His eyes moved to spot the mug she chose. A blue one with white tiny rabbits playing among flowers. It was his favorite and he wondered if she knew that. He wondered if he had told her and that’s why she picked it. It was probably coincidence, but wishful thinking was his forte.

“ You don’t have to **—** ” He started, moving to stand, but she cut him off.

“ I want to, though. ”

“ Fair enough. ” He moved to sit again as she grabbed milk from the fridge and poured it into the mug.

“D'you want honey?”

“ Yes. I always liked warm milk better with honey. ”

“ I know, ” She smiled, adding a generous amount to the drink, “ I’m your mom. ”

He smiled and prayed that it looked like one. His mother smiled so much sometimes and then barely at all, others. He wonder if she liked this, taking care of him. She always smiled when she did things like this, like make him warm milk or cook dinner. Was it really that fun?

She heated up the drink and placed it gently in front of him. His mother stalled for a moment, as though debating whether to sit with him while he drank or not.

“ You can stay. I’d like that, if you did. ” He wanted her to have this. One last moment with her son. It was the only thing he could for her; Give her at least  **ONE** more happy moment. He had already tucked his siblings in bed and read them as many stories as they wanted. He probably should have said goodbye to his dad **— YEAH, RIGHT.**  Nickie didn’t really give a shit about how that went down with him. If anyone deserved this, it was him.

“ How’re you doing, Hon? ”

There it was. The million dollar question, baby. The one that everyone asked him nowadays. How was he doing? It must be so hard, they said, going through something like that. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about how he was doing. It was small town polite, that’s what it was. How was he doing? Awful. He felt awful all the time. In fact, he’d never felt worse. But he was tired of sleeping all the time, tired of either not eating or gorging himself in one sitting, tired of being a bad son and brother, tired of everything. He was so sick to death of everything.

“ I’m doing a lot better.  ”

“ Meds helping? ”

“ Yes. ” He hadn’t taken them since he finished off the bottle and he had never gotten more. He’d been feeling so good there for a while. He had truly thought he was better but as soon as he’d stopped taking them everyday, it was back to the beginning. It was those barely staying afloat days with him sleeping all day and then, when he couldn’t sleep anymore, he downed cold medicine until he felt drowsy. It was back to the days of eating just to feel something. Did all twenty-three year olds feel like this? Sometimes he thought so and that the problem was that he just couldn’t take it because he was too weak or something.

“ I’m glad to hear that. We really want you to get better. ”

“ I know; I’m trying all the time, Ma. ”

“ And we’re so proud of you for it. ”

Her words hurt. For the first time, he felt apprehensive. This was going to hurt them so badly. She was going to be so upset with him when she found out. The twins would be upset too. He didn’t know how his father would react, but some part of Nickie hoped that he would miss him, just a little. His dad hadn’t been home for dinner, probably out drinking or doing whatever he did when he wasn’t at home. He felt even more apprehension now.

/Are you going to back out of it now? After you already spent so much time planning this. After you’ve already gone through so much trouble. You’re just wasting everyone’s time with your indecision. /

/No, no, I’m going to. I’m gonna get it over with. And then I’ll stop hurting everybody./

/They’re all going to be so much happier without you. They’re going to have so much less to worry about./

/I know/.

“ Well, it’s getting late. I have a double shift in the morning. I need to get to bed and so do you. ” His mother rose from her seat on one side of the table and made her way to his side. “ Put your mug in the sink when you’re done. I’ll wash it in the morning. ” She cupped his cheeks and tilted his face down to kiss the crown of his head.

“ Goodnight my miracle baby. I love you. ”

“ Love you too, Mama. G'night. ” He watched her walk away and he stayed seated until the sound of footsteps faded off and then gave it another ten minutes before drinking the rest of the mug in one gulp and placing it quietly into the sink. Now for the tricky part, getting to the basement without making noise.

He flicked off the kitchen light and shuffled to the basement steps. He’d walked up and down these steps a hundred times over and he knew where to step by heart, even in the darkness. Carefully, he took a step down and winced as it creaked. Hopefully no one heard that. He took another.

/No note, huh?/  
Step. Creak.  
/Notes are stupid. They just make it worse. Everyone can pretend it’s an accident this way, if they want./  
Step. Creak  
/I don’t know how someone accidentally drinks paint./  
Step. Creak.  
/I’m still not leaving a note. I won’t know what to say and I’ll chicken out./  
Step. Creak.  
/Can’t have that, now can we?/  
Step. Huh. No creak this time.  
/What will Hannah and Eliza say?/  
Step. Creak.  
/I don’t know. They’re smart girls. They’ll be fine without me./  
Step. Creak.  
/Well of course. They’re going to be better off, even./  
Step. Creak.  
/Yeah./

At last, he’d made it to the bottom step, stepping off the carpeted stairs to the tile floor. He flipped a light switch and it took a few moments to flick on, dimly giving off a few pitiful beams of light. He related to that light bulb, barely giving off enough light to see. He was supposed to have changed it weeks ago, but he never did. He wondered when someone would get to it.

In the faint glow, he could see the outline of the washing machine and dryer in the distance. He had to feel his way around down here as he stepped farther away from the light. Nickie never did like the basement. It was always dark and spooky and the air down here was cooler since it was underground. Well, more underground than the house. He felt around in search of the shelves and then in search of the paint can resting on them. There was still a fair amount of paint in it from when they’d painted the kitchen a few years ago. Navy blue. His mother had let him pick out the color.

He carefully lifted it up off the shelf and sat on the floor, sitting it in front of him. It’d been opened before so he had no trouble prying off the lid with his hands. It smelled like paint. Not much could be done about that he guessed. He wouldn’t have to smell it much longer at least.

He glanced up, giving the dimly lit basement one last look. He’d never spent much time here and felt no particular sadness about leaving it behind. Lifting the can, he took a breath and drank some.

Almost immediately, he dropped the can, coughing and spluttering. God, that was awful! He gagged, feeling absolutely sick. His vision blurred a little, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the paint or from that fact that he might have teared up. He scooped up the can before it could spill too much.

/Don’t stop now! You almost had it!/

/I can’t breathe!/

/That’s the point! More!/

/More./

He raised it to his mouth again and took another big sip and was met with a similar reaction. He coughed into his hand and he could see the flecks of navy paint covering himself from the hacking up his lungs. He felt so dizzy. Everything hurt so bad. One more sip. One more. He had too. He raised the paint can to his mouth and swallowed and regretted it.

God! This was awful! He leaned against the wall, still hacking and coughing. His vision was starting to go in and out and he felt dizzy and confused. He squeezed his eyes shut, throat burning from coughing and from drinking the thick, viscous liquid. He felt terrible, but at least, he felt tired. That had to be a good sign.

/This is fine! This is what you wanted!/

/I didn’t know it would be this bad./

/You drank paint. What the fuck did you expect? Warm milk and honey?/

/No. I just…I….just…/

His own thoughts trailed off as a numbness started to fall over him. This was fine. It was. Soon it’d be over. And he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. The last bit that he could vaguely remember was the smell of smoke, of burning, and the feeling of arms around him. He couldn’t quite recall, but he might have heard someone say his name.

Nickie.

* * *

“ Nickie! Hey, earth to Nickie! “

He blinked, glancing down to see his sister, gripping his face. The arms around him seemed to be from Eliza who was holding onto his middle like he was slipping away and would vanish if she let go.

“ Sorry, Hannah. I got lost in thought. What’s up?”

“ Your casserole was starting to burn and you just kept zoning out.” She dropped her hands and tapped Eliza’s arm and signaled for her to let go. Nickie’s head snapped towards the oven and was relieved to see that his casserole was sitting on the stove top and was not burnt.

“ I pulled it out of the oven and Eliza tried to get you to get back to reality. Unfortunately, snapping wasn’t really effective. I was holding your face and saying your name for like five minutes. “

“ Sorry, sorry. I was just really lost in thought I guess. Thanks for saving the casserole and me too. “ 

“ No prob, Bro Bro. Just don’t do it again. “

“ No promises. “


End file.
